LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf„VS27^b 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



JOHN GODFREY SAXE. 



A Biogfraphical Sketch of Vermont's Lawyer, 
Journalist, Lecturer and Rhymster. 



BY RUSSELL W. TAFT. 



One of One Hundred Copies Privately 
Printed* 



Burlingfton, Vermont. 
J 900. 



T'WO COPIES 



■MAR! 7 1900 



3G206 



Copyrighted 1S99 

BY 

R. W. Taft. 



SiiCJiMi> ci^^Y, 






TO THE READER. 



It is unnecessary to remark that the following 
sketch is carelessly written and hastily compiled. 
It is reprinted from a series of articles appearing 
in the Vermont University Cynic during the 
winter of 1899-1900 and is, so far as we have 
been able to ascertain, the first published biog- 
raphy of the poet. As, in the future, the 
compiler may attempt a more carefully written 
tribute to Saxe's memory, he earnestly requests 
those into whose hands the present work may 
come to communicate to him any errors or in- 
consistencies that they may detect, as well as 
facts or incidents that will add completeness to 
the sketch. 

R. W. T. 
Burlington, Yt., March 30, 1900. 



\ 




JoH.v G. Saxk. 



JOHN GODFREY SAXE. 



I. 

A German origin must be assigned to the 
Saxe family, the ancestor of which, John Sachse, 
immigrated early to the Dutch settlements along 
the Hudson river. Many of the Dutch and 
German settlers were Tories who, to escape pol- 
itical difficulties, moved further north. Among 
them John Sachse or Saxe removed in 1Y87 
through Lake Champlain to Highgate, the ex- 
treme northwest town of the mainland of Yer- 
mont, taking with him his wife and a family of 
eight sons and one daughter. The same year he 
built the first grist mill in northern Vermont on 
"Saxe's brook," tributary to Rock river, a small 
stream in the northwest corner of the township, 
where a little settlement is still known as ''Saxe's 
Mill." The dam still remains to testify to the 
care with which it was planned and constructed. 
Prior to this the nearest mills were at Platts- 
burgh, New York, across Lake Champlain by 
canoe, or at Burlington thirty-five miles distant. 
The mill must have been a welcome institution 
for there were no houses between Saxe's mill 
and Burlington and it is recorded that John 
Saxe in 1787 " visited Burlington with no 



2 

guide but his pocket compass, over a trail 
beset with hostile savages." John Saxe was 
a man of ability and perseverance, in every 
way calculated to cope with the hard- 
ships of a first settlement. He had, with his 
family, many perils to encounter and trials to 
endure ; they were harrassed by the noble red 
men and less noble but more inoffensive bears 
and catamounts and it is chronicled that at one 
time Mr. Saxe was obliged to swim the river 
breaking the ice with his hands, though as to the 
reason therefor the annalist is silent. 

The children of John Saxe were John, George, 
"William, Matthew, Godfrey, Peter, Jacob, Con- 
rad and Hannah. John, the eldest, died at the 
age of twenty-two ; Godfrey at twenty-eight ; 
Jacob carried on the furnace business ; Conrad 
was a blacksmith and farmer ; George a trapper 
and cattle drover ; William turned his hand to 
surveying ; Matthew, who was first town clerk of 
Highgate, became a wheelwright and afterwards 
a merchant, while Peter kept a store and later 
managed his father's mill. It needs but a glance 
at the early annals of Highgate to assure one 
that the family were prominent in town affairs. 
In the first book of records the first rec- 
ord is a bond from Ira Allen of Colches- 
ter to John Saxe, dated July 31, 1792. 
John Saxe was town treasurer in 1799. 



3 
The first marriage in Highgate, that of 
Andrew Wilson and Eachel Wilson, was per- 
formed March 19, 1800, by Matthew Saxe, J. P.; 
the first death was that of Catherine, wife of 
John Saxe, in 1791 ; in 1801 the first store and 
tavern was kept by Matthew, Godfrey and Peter 
Saxe ; 1799, 1800, 1805 and 1806 Matthew Saxe 
was town clerk, a position held by his brother 
Peter in 1810, 181i; 1828 and 1829. Matthew 
was town representative in 1800 and 1802 as was 
Peter in 1806, 1807, 1818 and 1827. Peter, who 
seems to have been the politician of the family, 
was postmaster and justice of the peace as well 
as, in 1818, county judge for the county of 
Franklin. In 1806, 1807 and 1811 he was 
selectman as was Conrad, his brother, in 1821. 
Conrad, the belligerent of the group, was one of 
Highgate's twelve militia captains and served in 
that capacity in the war of 1812, doing garrison 
duty at Swanton Falls. At the time of the bat- 
tle of Plattsburgh he raised a company of vol- 
unteers but was not on the scene, being unable 
to obtain transportation further than Grand Isle, 
where the cannonading was plainly heard. 

Peter Saxe, storekeeper, mill-owner and local 
politician, married, in 1813, Elizabeth Jewett, 
and their second son, for whom a niche at least 
may be reserved in America's literary Valhalla, 
is the subject of the present sketch. John God- 



frey Saxe was born in Highgate on June 2, 1816, 

one day later than Charles Gamage Eastman, 

Vermont's lyric poet. 

Saxe's early years passed quietly away. From 

his ninth to his seventeenth year he attended 

district school and worked in his father's mill. 

Tradition — in the guise of the "oldest inhabitant'' 

— recalls' him as a care-free, happy-go-lucky, 

whistling, barefoot lad, tall and lank, forever 

roaming about with the cattle and flocks and 

conducting himself generally in a manner that 

won him among the puritanical neighbors the 

name of "Saxe's fool," an appelation the merit of 

which he soon amply disproved. Mrs. Caroline 

(Brown) Freer, who died recently at Warren, 

Ohio, at the advanced age of ninety-three, taught 

when she was eighteen years of age, the district 

school near Saxe's mill and boarded in the Saxe 

family. John was one of her pupils and she 

often recalled him as a lively, mischievous and 

sometimes unruly lad, to whose shoulders she was 

many a time obliged to apply the rod. Mrs. 

Freer treasured jealously the poet's first attempt 

at versification, which he sent her after she left 

Highgate. The paper is yellow and the ink 

faded but the sentiment remains, 

"You go away, while here I stay 
But still we join in heart, 
Farewell I And be your journey here 
A pathway to a brighter sphere." 



5 

In later years Saxe's loyalty to his old teacher 
did not abate and he visited her frequently. 

A pleasant remini^nce of the poet's childhood 
is found in his ballad of " Little Jerry, the Mil- 
ler." 

LITTLE JERRY, THE MILLER, 
Beneath the hill you may see the mill 

Of wasting wood and crumbling stone ; 
The wheel is dripping and clattering still, 
But Jerry, the miller, is dead and gone. 
Year after year, early and late, 

Alike in summer and winter weather. 
He pecked the stones and calked the gate, 

And mill and miller grew old together. 
"Little Jerry !"— 't was all the same,— 

They loved him well who called him so ; 
And whether he'd ever another name, 

Nobody ever seemed to know. 
"Twas, "Little Jerry, come grind my rye ;" 

And "Little Jerry, come grind my wheat ;" 
And "Little Jerry" was still the cry, 

From matron bold and maiden sweet. 
'Twas "Little Jerry" on every tongue, 

And so the simple truth was told ; 
For Jerry was little when he was young. 

And Jerry was little when he was old. 
Biit what in size he chanced to lack, 

That Jerry made up in being strong ; 
I've seen a sack upon his back 

As thick as the miller, and quite as long. 
Always busy, and always merry, 

Always doing his very best. 



e 

A notable wag was Little Jerry, 
Who uttered well his standing jest. 

How Jerry lived is known to fame, 
But how he died there's none may know ; 

One autumn day the rumor came, 
' ' The brook and Jerry are very low." 

And then 't was whispered, mournfully, 
The leech had come, and he was dead ; 

And all the neighbors flocked to see ; 
"Poor Little Jerry I" was all they said. 

They laid him in his earthy bed, — 

His miller's coat his only shroud ; 
"Dust to dust," the parson said. 

And all the people wept aloud. 

For he had shunned the deadly sin, 

And not a grain of over-toll 
Had ever dropped into his bin. 

To weigh upon his parting soul. 

Beneath the hill there stands the mill, 
Of wasting wood and crumbling stone ; 

The wheel is dripping and clattering still, 
But Jerry, the Miller, is dead and gone. 

Little Jerry, a diminutive T'renchman of re- 
markable strength, wit and good nature, for 
many years tended the grists at the mill in High- 
gate. Saxe says of him : " His surname was 
written ' Goodheart ' in the mill-books ; but he 
often told me that our English translation was 
quite too weak, as the real name was spelled 
* Fortboncoeur^ " 



However, the days 

" When knaves were only found in books, 
And friends were known by friendly looks. 
And love was always true !" 

sped by 
all too soon. In 1833 and '34 Saxe attended the 
Grammar School of St. Albans where he prepar- 
ed for college. In 1835 he entered Wesleyan 
University, MiddletoWn, Connecticut, but did 
not stay the year out. In those days a college 
education was acquired under difficulties that 
would discourage an average youth of the present 
generation. Railroads were few and long jour- 
neys had to be made on horseback or in heavy 
stage-coaches, lumbering over rough and uneven 
roads, and many a stout-hearted boy, fired by an 
ambition that was later to win him fame and 
wealth, has footed it to school and home again. 
"College" then meant separation from home 
and friends for the whole year, perhaps for the 
whole course — a serious thing in a boy's sight. 
This may be why Saxe continued his pursuit of 
knowledge nearer home, for, in the fall of 1836, 
he enrolled himself in the sophomore class of 
Middlebury College, being then twenty years of 
age. Like many another he had to economize 
while struggling for an education, but his nature 
was o]3timistic and he was always on the sunny 
side of fate, so it is not to be supposed that a few 



discouragements made liis college days any the 
less joyous. At any rate in his " Carmen Lae- 
tum " occur these lines reminiscent of under- 
graduate life : 

" Ah ! well I remember the halcyon years, 
Too earnest for latighter, too pleasant for tears, 
When life was a boon in yon classical court, 
Though lessons were long and though commons were 
short!" 

Commons referred to the daily meals. Then, 
as now, the students contributed each a small 
sum weekly toward the support of the dining 
hall and shared their meals in common. This 
was easier upon the boys' pockets, though harder 
perhaps upon their digestive apparatus, for there 
was no startling variety to the bill of fare nor 
was there always enough to satisfy the vigorous 
appetites that were concerned, and often it was a 
case of " first come, first served." In the same 
poem Saxe also recalls President Bates in the 
words : 

" Ah ! well I remember the President's face, 
As he sat at the lecture Avith dignified grace, . 
And neatly unfolded the mystical themes 
Of various deep, metaphysical schemes, — 
How he brightened the path of his studious flock, 
And he gave them a key to that wonderful Locke ; 
How he taught us to feel it was fatal indeed 
With too much reliance to lean upon Reid." 



9 

The members of Saxe's class were, for the most 
part, sober minded and studious young men, de- 
voted to the prescribed course of study. Of the 
thirty-seven who graduated, two embraced the 
medical profession, nine became lawyers, nine 
became teachers, and the remaining seventeen 
preached the gospel. While Saxe did not neg- 
lect the regular studies of the course, hjis taste 
ran more in the line 6i literature and the ielles 
leitres. In mathematics he was an average stu- 
dent and, though an ardent lover of the classics, 
his translations were rather elegant than literal. 
His love for the classics continued unabated 
throughout his life. The allusions to Latin au- 
thors so common in his poems attest an intimate 
acquaintance with Yirgil, Ovid and Horace, 
while we find in an old St. Albans Republican 
the following apt rendition of a certain English 
juvenile classic into the mother tongue. 

Jack et Gilla. 

Jack et Gilla 
Ascendunt montem, . 

Aquam parare ' 
Ad certem fontem, 

Procidit Jack, 

Et praeter hac, 
Frangit e]\xs fundum — 

Et de Gilla, 

Etiam ilia, 
Procidit secundum. 



10 

In person Saxe was of fine presence. He was 
tall and erect,with a kindly face framed in flow- 
ing locks, a clear skin and a deep gray eye. His 
manners were pleasing and a certain youthful 
awkwardness soon disappeared under the influ- 
ence of his social life, for he at once became a 
favorite both in college and in the town. He 
was a great smoker and was known, accordingly, 
as " Tobacco Saxe " among the girls. Saxe 
studied while in college, to make a good con- 
versationalist and gave presage of many of the 
qualities that afterward appeared in his writings. 
He was witty, happy in repartee, something of a 
punster and was well equipped with funny anec- 
dotes that he employed skilfully, thereby making 
himself an entertaiaing and attractive companion, 
albeit with a spice of egotism. His literary 
taste was far above the average; he read exten- 
sively the works of standard English authors, 
both in prose and poetry, and was fond of quot- 
ing their brightest and most brilliant thoughts. 
As a debater he ranked well and it was a pleas- 
ure to listen to him in Lyceum, while if a literary 
program was the order of the day he was assured 
of a prominent place. 

The young collegian's suamter in modo 
stood him in good stead. He could far out- 
do any member of his class in politeness 
gotten up for the occasion when called upon 



11 

to answer a question upon wliicli he was totally 
unprepared ; nor did he ever hesitate for a reply. 
He was generally among the last to enter the 
chapel for morning prayers. On one occasion 
the students apparently had all assembled and the 
exercises were about to commence, when Saxe 
came hurrying in, his long overcoat flung over 
his shoulders. As he was hastening to his seat 
the President addressed him, " Good morning, 
Mr. Saxe." He turned toward the President 
with a graceful salute, and with a deep, clear 
voice returned the greeting, " Good morning. 
President Bates." No one else in the audience 
could have returned the President's greeting 
under those circumstances so imperturbably. As 
showing Saxe's versatility in adapting means to 
ends Eev. Byron Sunderland of Washington, D. 
C, relates this incident : " Saxe roomed as other 
students did, over the then famous bookstore of 
Jonathan Hagar in the vicinity of ' the river 
Styx,' which meandered between the village and 
the first old square frame college building, then 
used for chapel and students' rooms. I remem- 
ber one cheerless autumn morning about 5 
o'clock, on my way to chapel prayers, calling at 
his room in Hagar's whose fair daughters, by the 
way, at their room on Weybridge street, had the 
night before entertained a formal company, of 
whom Saxe was one. As I knocked for admis- 



12 

sion, his loud, clear voice replied, ' Come in,' 
and there he was just out of bed, with his black 
pants in one hand and stick of sealing wax in the 
other, bending over the feeble flame of a sputter- 
ing tallow candle and trying with the melt- 
ed wax to patch a rent which unfortunately had 
been made in his nether garments the night 
before. As I looked in upon him he caught my 
eye with a most quizzical expression, and pointing 
to the rent in his dark pants, which now showed 
at a little distance off to be only a blood-red spot as 
of a discoloration or a stain, he remarked, ^That, 
now 1 take it, has been done with neatness and 
dispatch.' Then taking his quill pen, he smeared 
the wax with ink and hastily jumped into his 
clothes, crying as he donned his broad-brimmed 
hat, 'Come on, my son, we shall be late to pray- 
ers.' " 

Prof. Truman K. Wright of Elbridge, E". Y., 
who was a classmate of Saxe, writes as follows : 
"Saxe was genial, jovial and inclined to be wag 
gish. His room-mate Wicker was a fine scholar 
in mathematics, and once solved a difficult prob- 
lem for the next daj^'s recitation by working until 
midnight ; and when he went to bed he left the 
solution on his writing desk. Saxe came in late, 
saw the problem worked, and examined it some- 
what. When the bell rang in the morning 
Wicker was sound asleep. Saxe gathered up 



13 

the manuscrij3t, noiselessly closed the door, and 
hastened to the recitation room, where he spread 
out the solution upon the black-board. Great 
was the astonishment to see Saxe solve the most 
difficult problem of the day ; in fact the aston- 
ishment was so great that though intended'to be 
a joke on Wicker, it proved to be a joke on 
Saxe." 

Edwin Everts, who died in 1898 at Virden. 
111., was the poet's intimate college friend. They 
were interchangeable guests almost daily, were 
both in attendance at the winter term of the 
senior year, read, recited and talked French 
together under the tutelage of Prof. Stoddard, 
and belonged to the "Tub Philosophers." Paint- 
er Hall, in which Saxe roomed the latter part of 
his course, is still standing, though unoccupied. 
The room in which the poet spent his college 
days is small and plain ; the plaster is falling off 
and the doors and window cases are battered and 
scarred. 



II- 

Strange to say, Saxe, when in college, did 
not woo the muse as ardently as prevalent 
undergraduate tradition demanded, yet he was 
considered the poet of the class and when- 
ever he read a few stanzas before them he was 
listened to with marked attention. He and his 
classmate. Carlos Bisbee were rival versifiers. 
On one occasion when Bisbee had read a few 
stanzas before the class, after the class was dis- 
missed Saxe exclaimed with considerable stress : 
" Bisbee a poet ! Bisbee write poetry ? He 
doesn't know enough to steal a good poem !"^ 

Saxe's first literary efforts were published about 
the beginning of his junior year in the local 
prints. " My Uncle William or Love vs. Law" was 
his first printed effort and was meritorious chiefly 
on account of its brevity. " The Autobiography 
of a Pocket Knife," the next offspring of his 
budding fancy, also shows no palpable traces of 
genius. Later on Saxe became a member of the 
"Tub Philosophers a la Diogenes" who turned 
loose their literary talent on the Green Moun- 
tain Argus. The Philosophers' salutatory was 
by Saxe and ran as follows : 

Gentle Read — -but hold, we do not know that 
you are gentle ; nor, indeed are we quite sure 



15 
you would like the application of the term to 
yourself, however appropriate. Gentleness, un- 
luckily enough, has almost ceased to be thought 
a virtue. Indeed, it has come to be regarded as 
unbecoming a man, barely pardonable in womefi 
and indispensable in horses. " The animal is 
- perfectly gentle, sir." You will hardly hear the 
word in any other connection. We will try 
again. 

Intelligent reader— alas! how few readers are 
intelligent ! how few thoroughly understand a 
tithe of what they read. How few are careful 
always to " regard the writer's end." How often 
is he dispraised as superficial, when he never 
meant to be profound. How often denied the 
praise of wit, when he aims only to be pleasant. 
We'll try once more. 

Indulgent reader— the phrase sounds smoothly 
— but alas ! how few readers are indulgent. How 
ready are many persons to misconstrue and per- 
vert whatever is susceptible of distortion, or, 
more unfairly still, " hide each virtue in some 
neighboring vice." Almost the only reader who 
may be allowed the title of indulgent, is the 
author,— when reading his own productions. 
The world is deplorably selfish, and people have 
little indulgence for other people's children. 
Again have we wandered from our subject,— let 
us return once more. 



16 

Reader ! whatever title suit thee best — gentle, 
or simple — intelligent, or stupid, — indulgent, or 
severe, — we, the " Tub Philosophers", quite un- 
known to jou, but very well known among our- 
selves, intend to write, and very respectfully 
request you to read. If you will not, your folly 
will be upon your owii heads. " Let every Tub 
stand on its own bottom." 

To the ensuing philosophical flux Saxe seems 
to have contributed several bits of verse as well 
as six " Semi-Moral Essays" the fourth of which 
we venture to quote : 

SHAKING HANDS. 

The lesser civilities of human life, however 
trivial their appearance when separately consid- 
ered, contribute largely in their collective influ- 
ence to the sum total of human happiness. In- 
deed, they may be regarded as distinctive char- 
acteristics of enlightened society ; and, in every 
nation, the growth of refined etiquette marks 
with great accuracy the grade of civilization. 
The various rites of urbanity are not only the 
invariable attendants, but eminently productive 
of good society ; and are hence, worthy of the 
most punctual observance. Of all the forms of 
courtesy which prevail at the present day, none 
is of more frequent occurrence than " shaking 
hands." It is the most general and expressive 



17 

mode of salutation in the civilized world. It is 
a token of amity — a pledge of good faith — a 
confession of friendship — or, the seal of pardon. 

Without undertaking to point out the most 
refined and eligible style of shaking hands, I 
shall proceed to describe, as accurately as may 
be, the different methods which ought to be 
avoided. First in the list comes the pump-han- 
dle shake. The epithbt is sufficiently significant 
to illustrate the modus operandi. It is a regular, 
mechanical, perpendicular motion, and highly 
inelegant .... "pray you avoid it." 
Then there's your horizontal shake — quite as in- 
decorous as the other, and more dangerous. It 
is the very motion that Hamlet cautioned the 
players against when he said " do not saw the air 
too much.'' In performing the horizontal 
shake, your friend grasps your hand and violently 
jerks your arm from right to left with the apparent 
purpose of dislocating your shoulder. It is worse 
than the fever and ague — bating the fever. 

Commend such fellows to my enemies. Next, 
comes the sentimental shake ; it is practiced 
chiefly by romantic young ladies, and delicate 
young gentlemen in white kid gloves. It is a 
misnomer, however, to call it a shake — it's only 
contact at best. If you ever approached a young 
lady with the design of saluting her — don't be 
alarmed, madam, — with the design, I say, of 



18 

shaking her hand, and received a lifeless lump of 
clay, extended with a languid air, as though 
energy were indelicate or criminal — if joii have 
been through with all this, you have a very good 
idea of the "shake sentimental." I prefer the 
cold bath. It is amusing to see one of the senti- 
mental -shakers encounter one of the pump- 
handle order. However, between, the inertia of 
the one and the vigor of the other, you get a 
resultant motion not far from the true standard. 

Some persons have a habit of offering a single 
finger. It is a scurvy practice — a pitiful evasion 
of duty — a miserable attempt to defraud. It is 
the conduct of a solvent debtor who tenders you 
one-fifth of your dues — who proposes to com- 
pound at twenty per cent on the dollar. If any 
person offer to treat you thus ungenerously — al- 
low him to shake a corner of your pocket-hand- 
kerchief. 

Some people, to the great scandal of good 
manners, offer you their left hand. Don't take 
it. A man has no 7'ight to give you his left 
hand ; besides he cannot do it dexterously. 
Pause before you accept it — the person who 
presents it, may fairly be suspected of sinister 
motives. 

I must not omit to mention the squeezers. 
These fellows seem to think it a virtue to crush 
your very bones with the violence of their grasp. 



19 

Depend upon it, it's a vice. Commend me a 
" bear-hug '' in preference. 

Give me the man who meets me half way — 
looks me full in the face, and gives me a cordial, 
generous shake ; not with the violence of a 
wrestler, but with a temperate vigor which be- 
speaks a feeling too respectful to be rude. 

Several of Saxe's later epigrams, among them 
"A Plain Case" and "Lucus a Non," seem to 
smack of college sentiment. 

A PLAIN CASE. 

*' When Tutor Thompson goes to bed, 
That very moment, it is said. 
The cautious man puts out the light, 
And draws the curtain snug and tight. 
You marvel much why this should be, 
But when his spouse you chance to see, 
What seemed before a puzzling case 
Is plain as Mrs. Thompson's face !" 

LUCUS A NON. 

" You'll oft find in books, rather ancient than recent, 
A gap in the page marked with "cetera clesunt,''' 
By which you may commonly take it for granted 
The passage is wanting without being wanted ; 
And may borrow, besides, a significant hint 
That desunt means simply not decent to print I" 



20 

"While in college Saxe did not belong to a Greek 
letter fraternity ; in fact there were no Greek 
societies at Middlebury until 1843, When the Mu 
chapter of Chi Psi was founded. In 1853, how- 
ever, the poet was enrolled as an honorary mem- 
ber of Psi Upsilon by the Harvard Alpha Chap- 
ter. The circumstances of the initiation are thus 
recalled by Eev. W. S. Mackenzie, D. D., in the 
" Diamond " of Psi Upsilon : 

" I very well remember the night that he was 
made a member of the Alpha Chapter of I^air 
Harvard. He had been chosen to deliver the 
poem at the anniversary in Cambridge in 1853, 
and two or three weeks previous to the event be 
came out to Cambridge to be installed as a mem- 
ber of the Alpha. We made a little feast for the 
occasion, and after the installation services we sat 
down to eat, drink and make such speeches as the 
time suggested. Mr. Saxe was very joyous and 
witty. When he left at midnight to return by 
coach to 'The Revere House his liat was missing 
and he had to return hatless to Boston. Soon 
afterward the Chapter had a large, very fine hat 
made and sent him at Burlington, Yermont. In 
return he forwarded a framed crayon bust of 
himself, and on the lower margin of the picture 
was the following autograph verse — 

• An exchange — it will be Baid — 

Eemarkably equal and pat ; 
You sent him a hat for his head, 

And he sends you his head for his hat ! ' " 



21 



The poet's love for Psi Upsilon and its mem- 
bers was deep and lasting and he was a familiar 
figure at the reunions and banquets of the order 
where some of his cleverest thoughts were deliv- 
ered as toasts. On July 21, 1863, a few weeks 
after his initiation, at the festival referred to 
Saxe read some characteristic post-prandial verses' 
part of which ran as follows : ' 

' ' Success to Psi Upsilon i-Beautiful name !- 
To the eye and the ear it is pleasant the same • 
Many thanks to old Cadmus who made us his debtors 
By inventing, one day, those capital letters 
Which still, from the heart, we shall know how to speak 
When we ve fairly forgotten the rest of our Greek !" 
The closing lines ran thus : 

Remember 'tis blessed to give and forgive • 
Live chiefly to love, and love while you live '• 
And dying, when life's little journey is done, 
May your last, fondest sigh be PSI Upsilon ! " 
The last line of the above is still current among 
the members of the fraternity, and with them the 
poet's popularity is yet undimmed. His eldest 
son and grandson both became members-the 
former honorarily at Union College and the latter 
at Columbia, where he is at present a law student, 
baxe took from Middlebury the degree of A 
B in 1839 and A. M. in 1843, while in 1866 his' 
Alma Mater conferred upon him the honorary 
degree of LL. D, which, indeed, he merited asa 
man of letters rather than as a man of law 



22 



III. 



Upon his graduation from college Saxe went 
to Lewiston, near Lockport, 1^. Y., to engage in 
the study of the law, but returned to Yermont, 
presumably to take unto himself a helpmate, for, 
on September 9, 1841, he was wedded to Miss 
Sophia ISTewell Sollace, sister of a classmate, 
Calvin T. Sollace, and daughter of the Hon. Cal- 
vin S. Sollace of Bridport, Yt. Mrs. Saxe, who 
was her husband's junior by three years, was re- 
garded as the belle of her native town. 

Mr. Saxe completed his reading in Yermont 
and was admitted to the bar in St, Albans in 
September, 1843. For the next seven years he 
was engaged 'in the practice of his profession at 
St. Albans and at Highgate. While residing at 
the latter place he attained the exalted distinc- 
tion of being elected justice of the peace. 

Saxe was all his life a zealous and consistent 
democrat and, shortly after becoming a lawyer, 
he seems to have turned his pen to some account 
politically. During the Clay campaign of 1844 
he contributed various campaign songs and squibs 
to the St. Albans Republican. One of the epi- 
grams runs thus : 



23 



EPIGRAM. 

The image of the Syrian monarch's dream 
A type of modern whiggery would seem — 
A little gold, some iron and much brass 
Composed in part the ill compounded mass, 
But yet so strong, it might have stood to-day, 
Had not its pedestal been made of Clay ! 

For the term of a year (1847-48) Mr. Saxe 
served as superintendent of the common schools 
of Franklin county. His experiences among the 
teachers undoubtedly prompted his clever bit of 
verse, "Ye Pedagogue," which has offered many 
an audacious urchin an opportunity to "get even" 
with a tyrannical master on "Declamation" day. 

YE PEDAGOGUE. 

(A Ballad.). 
I. 

Righte learned is ye Pedagogue, 

FuUe apt to reade and spelle, 
And eke to teache ye parts of speeche, 

And strap ye urchins welle. 

11. 

For as 'tis meete to soake ye feete, 

Ye ailinge heade to mende, 
Ye younker's pate to stimulate. 

He beats ye other ende 1 

HI. 

Right lordlie is ye Pedagogue 

As any turbaned Turke ; 
For welle to rule ye District Schoole, 

It is no idle worke. 



24 

IV. 

For oft Rebellion lurketh there 

In breaste of secrete foes, 
Of malice f ulle, in waite to puUe 

Ye Pedagogue his nose ! 

V. 

Sometimes he heares with trembling feares, 

Of ye ungodlie rogue 
On mischieffe bent, with felle intent 

To licke ye Pedagogue ! 

VI. 

And if ye Pedagogue be smalle, 

When to ye battell led, 
In such a plighte, God sende him mighte 

To breake ye rogue his heade ! 

VII. 

Daye after daye, for little paye, 

He teacheth what he can, 
And bears ye yoke, to please ye f olke, 

And ye committee-man. 

VIII. 

Ah ! many crosses hath he borne, 

And many trials founde, 
Ye while he trudged ye district through 

And boarded rounde and rounde ! 

IX. 

Ah ! many a steake hath he devoured, 

That, by ye taste and sighte, 
Was in disdaine, 'twas very plaine. 

Of Daye his patent righte 1 



25 



X. 
FuUe Bolemn is ye Pedagogue, 

Amonge ye noisy churls, 
Yet other while he hath a smile 

To give ye handsome girls. 
XI. 
And one, — ye faryest mayde of all, — 

To cheere his wayninge life. 
Shall be, when springe ye flowers shall bringe, 

Ye Pedagogue his wife ! 

This is a specimen of the poet's best work 
and aptly illustrates the off hand play of his 
nimble wit. It also hints at one of the reasons 
why his fame has declined — the local allusions 
60 common in all his work. The reference in 
verse IX to the inventor of " patent leather," 
then just coming into vogue, would scarcely be 
understood by the rising generation. 

As a young lawyer Saxe's literary fame began 
to broaden through his having become a regular 
contributor to the Knickerbocker, the leading 
magazine of that day. One of his first contrib- 
utions was the "Rhyme of the Rail" upon which, 
perhaps more than any other, rested his early 
fame. It went the rounds of the press time and 
again and was known to generations of school- 
children. The sound admirably echoes the sense. 
In reading it one can close his eyes and almost 
hear the varied sounds that form an undersong 
to the monotonous rumble of the cars. 



26 

RHYME OF THE RAIL. 

Singing through the forests, 

Rattling over ridges, 
Shooting under arches, 

Rumbling over bridges, 
Whizzing through the mountains, 

Buzzing o'er the vale, — 
Bless nie ! this is pleasant. 

Riding on the Rail ! 

Men of different "stations" 

In the eye of Fame 
Here are very quickly 

Coming to the same. 
High and lowly people. 

Birds of every feather. 
On a common level 

Travelling together ! 

Gentleman in shorts, 

Looming very tall ; 
Gentleman at large. 

Talking very small ; 
Gentleman in tights, 

With a loose-ish mien ; 
Gentleman in gray. 

Looking rather green. 

Gentleman quite old. 

Asking for the news ; 
Gentleman in black. 

In a fit of blues ; 
Gentleman in claret, 

Sober as a vicar ; 
Gentleman in Tweed, 

Dreadfully in liquor ! 



2f 

Stranger on the right, 
Looking very sunny, 

Obviously reading 
Something rather funny. 

Now the smiles are thicker. 
Wonder what they mean ? 

Faith he's got the Knicker- 
bocker magazine ! 

Stranger on the left, 

Closing up his peepers ; 
Now he snores amain. 

Like the Seven Sleepers ; 
At his feet a volume 

Gives the explanation, 
How the man grew stupid 

From " Association !" 

Ancient maiden lady 

Anxiously remarks, 
That there must be peril 

' iVIong so many sparks I 
Roguish-looking fellow. 

Turning to the stranger, 
Says it's his opinion 

She is out of danger ! 

Woman with her baby, 

Sitting vis-a-vis ; 
Baby keeps a squalling ; 

Woman looks at me ; 
Asks about the distance, 

Says it's tiresome talking 
Noises of the cars 

Are so very shocking ! 

Market-woman careful 
Of the precious casket. 



28 

Knowing eggs are eggs, 
Tightly holds her basket ; 

Feeling that a smash, 
If it came, would surelj 

Send her eggs to pot 
Rather prematurely ! 

Singing through the forests, 

Rattling over ridges, 
Shooting under arches. 

Rumbling over bridges. 
Whizzing through the mountains. 

Buzzing o'er the vale, — 
Bless me ! this is pleasant, 

Riding on the Rail ! 

Saxe's services also began to be in demand at 
college commencements and like affairs. He 
read " Progress" before the Middlebury alumni 
in 1846, " The Times " before the Boston Mer- 
cantile Library Association in 1849, " Carmen 
Laetum" at Middlebury in 1850 and "New 
England " at the Hamilton College commence- 
ment of 1849. " New England " has disappear- 
ed. At least in none of Saxe's works does the 
title or theme appear and the poem was probably 
not deemed worthy of preservation. In view of 
this fact the following lurid notice in a local 
paper, elicited by its delivery at the commence- 
ment of the Henry Female College at Louisville, 
Kentucky, seems rather absurd : 



29 



" The poem of Saxe was supreme and inimita- 
ble, and perliaps we might as well relieve our- 
selves from the responsibility of saying anything 
further by adding that it was indescrihaUe. It 
was perfectly magical. It was like that of some 
exquisite hymn at the close of a ^ey, England 
church service— heightened even above its in- 
trinsic charm by the unbroken and wearying 
solemnity of the preceding rites. But its intrin- 
sic charm required no heightening. The theme 
of the poem was the poet's own IS^ew England 
and the poem itself was, or is (for we have no use' 
for any tense but the present in speaking of so 
immortal a thing) an all but matchless combina- 
tion of wit, humor, poetry, and patriotism. It 
IS a sad mistake to fancy that Saxe is merely the 
wittiest of poets. He is among the most poetical 
of wits. His sense of the beautiful is large and 
delicate, and, on occasion, he can be as great as 
he always is smart. They must have strange 
eyes indeed who do not perceive the empyrean 
gleam of his genius through the starry host of 
his wit." 

In 1846 Saxe's iirst published volume came 
from press, " Progress, a Satire." It was dedi- 
cated to Oliver Wendell Holmes after this fash- 
ion : 



30 



" To Oliver Wendell Holmes, as a slight token 
of the admiration which the writer entertains for 
his fine poetical genius ; his unequalled power of 
playful satire, and his terse and felicitous versi- 
fication, this poem is respectfully inscribed by 

his obliged friend, 

The Author." 

Progress was favorably received by the press 
and we venture to quote one of the notices as 
likely to prove of interest. 

" A JS^EW Satire. — About six weeks ago 
there adventured into Gotham a sandy-haired, 
six-foot Yermonter, who in divers stage coaches, 
canal packets, and steamboats had found his way 
from the northwest corner of the Green Moun- 
tain State and brought with him the manuscript 
of a satirical poem entitled ' Progress,' which 
he wished to see in print. For a wonder, the 
very first publisher he called on agreed to bring 
it out, and it is very neatly done, by Mr. John 
Allen, and now lies before us, in a handsome 
pamphlet of Sti pp. 8vo. We had heard the 
verses well spoken of, and opening to the first 
page, read on as follows : 

" In this, our happy and ' progessive' age, 
When all alike ambitious cares engage ; 
When beardless boys to sudden sages grow, , 
And ' Miss' her nurse abandons for a beau ; 



31 

When for their dogmas Non-Resistanta fight, 
When dunces lecture and when dandies write ; 
When matrons, seized with oratorio pangs. 
Give happy birth?to masculine harangues, 
And spinsters, trembling for the nation's fate, 
Neglect their stockings to preserve the state ; 
When critic- wits their brazen lustre shed 
On golden authors whom they never read, 
With parrot praise of ' Roman Grandeur,' speak, 
And in bad English eulogize the Greek ;— 
When facts like these no reprehension bring, 
May not uncensured an attorney sing? 

"Decidedly he may! If John G. Saxe, 
Esquire, sings in* this fashion, he may as well 
sing on. Mr. Saxe, attorney, will be better known 
one of these days, than at prsent, or at least 
more widely. (A prophecy amply fulfilled.) 

"Progress, the poem before us, made a sensa- 
tion before it got into print. It was written at 
the request of the Associated Alumni of Middle^ 
bury College, and spoken before that so- 
ciety the 22d of last July (1846). It was 
in the Presbyterian meeting-house, where a 
laugh was considered highly improper, and 
any demonstration of applause little less 
than sacrilege. But before our attorney 
had read twenty lines the house was in a broad 
grin— a little further on there came ' a most un- 
oriental roar of laughter,' and soon after came a 
burst of applause. The parsons could not hush 



32 

the noise for laughing. It was a literary excite- 
ment unparalleled in the Green Mountain State, 
We agree with the Associate Alumni, that Prog- 
ress is a capital satire. They did very rightly 
in applauding it, even in a Presbyterian meeting 
house. The parsons need not be ashamed of 
their excited risibilities. The poem is the best 
of its kind that has been written in ten years — 
and touches up the topics of the day with ex- 
quisite humor, an easy flow of verse, a piquant 
wit, and a satire quite free from all malice." 

In 184Y followed "The New Eape of the 
Lock," later known as "Captain Jones's Misad- 
venture," but Saxe's literary reputation was not 
firmly established until in 1848 "Proud Miss 
MacBride" caught the public ear and won uni- 
versal popularity for her author. This poem 
is a Yankee version of Hood's "Golden Legend." 
Its vigor may be judged by the following scath- 
ing arraignment of American family pride : 

"Of all the notable things on earth, 
The queerest one is pride of birth, 

Among our 'fierce Democracy ' ! 
A bridge across a hundred years, 
Without a prop to save it from sneers, — 
Not even a couple of rotten Peers, — 
A thing for laughter, fleers, and jeers. 

Is American aristocracy ! 

"English and Irish, French and Spanish, 
German, Italian, Dutch and Danish, 



33 



Crossing their veins until they vanish 

In one conglomeration ! 
So subtle a tangle of blood indeed, 
No modern Harvey will ever succeed 

In finding the circulation ! 

"Depend upon it, my snobbish friend, 
Your family thread you can't ascend, 
Without good reason to apprehend 
You may find it , waxed at the other end 

By some plebean vocation ; 
Or, worse than that, your boasted line 
May end in a loop of stronger twine. 

That plagued some worthy relation ! " 

In 1849 Saxa's first collected edition was is- 
sued at the instance of James T. Fields, the pub- 
lisher, and from then on Saxe was a public char- 
acter in American letters. 

. The following verses appeared in the St. Al 
bans Messenger for March 27, 1848. They were 
addressed by Saxe to his friend, the late Dr. 
John L. Chandler. It seems the lawyer and 
doctor engaged in a friendly, metrical sparring 
match, these verses being in reply to some by 
the doctor . — 

TO J. L. C. 

A physician who heard, what no one discards, 
That Apollo was patron of doctors and bards, 
Conceived that himself, as a matter of course, 
Was endowed by the god with a duplicate force ; 
And licensed to dabble, whene'er he thought fit. 
With mercury, metaphor, jalop and wit. 



34 



' 'Dear doctor," quoth Phoebus, (who knows in a trice 

What his sons are about,) "here's a bit of advice. 

Don't mistake your vocation : — I've heard you rehearse 

Most equivocal sense in most horrible verse : 

I've seen you play doctor and bardling to boot, 

Now mending a leg, and now marring a foot ; 

Now talking of Attic-salt, then of salt-petre, 

Now curing a cold and now murdering metre. 

Nay ! Don't be offended. Away with that frown, 

There is'nt a better physician in town. 

But the doQtrine is settled and you ought to know it, 

One may make a good poultice and not be a poet ; 

May thrive as a doctor, yet fail as perfumer ; 

May know much of humors and nothing of humor. 

Thus I own you're a match for corporeal ills. 

But doctor ! dear doctor ! pray stick to your pills." 



35 



lY. 

In 1850 Mr. Saxe removed to Burlington, to 
practice his profession, and for ten years lived at 
177 South Union street, in the house now occu- 
pied by J. G. Bellrose. For the next year he 
served as state's attorney of Chittenden county, 
an office to which he was elected not without the 
suspicion of having been " counted in " by the 
town of Bolton. With his growing love for 
literary work law began to irk the poet and he 
often expressed the intention of giving it up as 
soon as he could find a more congenial means of 
making a living. He was not a success as a law- 
yer ,* the brilliancy of his intellect forbade his 
relishing the dry profundity of the abstract 
science, and his practice, which was never large, 
was cared for by ex-lieutenant governor Levi 
Underwood. His only appearance before the 
Supreme Court was in State v. "Woodward — 23 
Vt. 92 — argued for the State by "J. G. Saxe, 
state's attorney, with whom was L. Underwood." 
In this he seems to have had the wrong end of 
the argument for the decision favored the respond- 
ent. Woodward. Saxe's attitude toward the law 
is shown in some lines of advice to a young friend 
" who thinks he should like to be a lawyer " in 
which, among similar sentiments, he says : 



36 

" No, no, my boy, let others sweat 

And wrangle in the courts ; 
There's nothing pleasing in a Plea ; 

You cannot trust Reports. 

' ' Although the law of literature 

May your attention draw, 
I'm very sure you wouldn't like 

The literature of Law." 

He once jocosely remarked that he was no 
lawyer, for out of three divorces secured by him 
" two couples had remarried and gone to living 
together again." Saxe was occasionally seen in the 
court room, located in what is now the Fletcher 
Library, where, during the trial of Weed v. 
Beach, a particularly tedious suit involving some 
water rights in the town of Jericho, he scribbled 
the following epigram for the edification of his 
legal brethren : 

"My wonder is really boundless, 
That among the queer cases we try, 

A land case should often be groundless. 
And a water case always be dry." 

The law gave birth to some of the poet's 
cleverest verses. " The Briefless Barrister" pub- 
lished in the Knickerbocker for September, 1844:, 
travelled fugitively through the papers of 
America and took a new lease of life after having 
been copied into Punch. 



37 



THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER. 

An attorney was taking a turn, 

In shabby habiliments drest ; 
His coat it was shockingly worn, 

And the rust had invested his vest. 

His breeches had suffered a breach, 
His linen and worsted were worse ; 

He had scarce a whole crown in his hat, 
And not half k crown in his purse. 

And thus as he wandered along, 
A cheerless and comfortless elf, 

He sought for relief in a song, 
Or complainingly talked to himself ; — 

" Unfortunate man that I am ! 

I've never a client but grief ; 
The case is, I've no case at all, 

And in brief, I've ne'er had a brief ! 

" I've waited, and waited in vain, 
Expecting an 'opening' to find. 

Where an honest young lawyer might gain 
Some reward for the toil of his mind. 

" 'Tis not that I'm wanting in law, 

Or lack an intelligent face, 
That others have cases to plead, 

While I have to plead for a case. 

" O, how can a modest young man 
E'er hope for the smallest progression, — 

The profession's already so full 
Of lawyers so full of profession." 

While thus he was strolling around, 

His eye accidentally fell 
On a very deep hole in the ground. 

And he sighed to himself " It is well .'" 



38 



To curb his emotions he sat 

On the curb-stone the space of a minute, 
Then cried, " Here's an opening at last !" 

And in less than a jiffy was in it ! 

Next morning twelve citizens caine, 

('Twas the coroner bade them attend), 
To the end that it might be determined 
' How the man had determined his end. 

"The man was a lawyer, I hear," 
Said the foreman, who sat on the corse, 

' ' A lawyer ? alas !" said another, 
" Undoubtedly died of remorse !" 

A third said, " He knew the deceased — 
An attorney well versed in the laws, 

And as to the cause of his death, 
'Twas no doubt for the want of a cause." 

The jury decided at length 
After solemnly weighing the matter, 

That the lawyer was drownded because 
He could not keep his head above water ! 

The looked for opportunity to renounce the 
law arrived when, in 1851, Saxe entered the 
sphere of journalism and became editor and pro- 
prietor of the Vermont Sentinel, a democratic 
weekly published in Burlington. Mr. Saxe 
rightly turned to journalism as offering the read- 
iest means of applying his talents and his tastes. 
His editorial labors interested him by bringing 
him into contact with varied phases of humanity 
and led to unexpected results by involving him 



39 



in the small politics of the day. He was, for a 
time, deputy collector of customs in the Bur- 
lington Custom House and later, in 1 859 and 
1860, ran for governor of Vermont on the demo- 
cratic ticket, but the nomination was purely com- 
plimentary as the party has never gained suffi- 
cient strength in the state to elect an executive. 
Mr. Saxe deemed theimatter a great joke and in 
acceptance of the first nomination wrote a short 
letter closing with the words : " For further 
political views, and opinions, I will refer you to 
my inaugural message." An incident of the 
campaign gave rise to the following epigram : 

A CANDID CANDIDATE. 

" When John was contending (though sure to be beat) 
In the annual race for the Governor's seat, 
And a crusty old fellow remarked to his face, 
He was clearly too young for so lofty a place, — 
" Perhaps so," said John ; "but consider a minute, 
The objection will cease by the time I am in it." 

Toward the close of his residence in Burling- 
ton Mr. Saxe began to manifest a reserved dis- 
position and became subject to spells of melan- 
choly — forerunners of the gloom that brooded 
over his later years — during several of which 
he made attempts upon his own life. One who 
knew him then says : " He was not the jovial, 
whole-souled fellow that he appeared in his 



40 



poems." Perhaps Saxe was disheartened at not 
having made more of his brilliant talents and 
perhaps the choice of a career that made him ex- 
pected to be funny contributed to this. At any 
rate he has pointed out in his " Comic Miseries" 
the disadvantages of being regarded as a come- 
dian : , 

" My dear young friend, whose shining wit 

Sets all the room ablaze, 
Don't think yourself ' a happy dog' 

For all your merry ways ; 
But learn to wear a sober phiz, 

Be stupid, if you can, 
It's such a very serious thing 

To be a funny man. " 

Many instances of Saxe's wit yet linger in the 
memories of Burlington people. At one time 
he attended a Roman Catholic funeral in the 
capacity of bearer. High mass was sung and 
the bearers stood throughout the long service. 
Finally a companion whispered to the humorist : 
" Pretty long drawn-out, isn't it, Saxe?" "Yes," 
was the reply. " They will run it into the ground - 
pretty soon." Another instance, from which his 
power of incisive raillery and broad appreciation 
of absurdity may be well judged, is his "Vindi- 
cation of Saint Peter." David Barker of Maine, 
a poet of some local celebrity, after the birth of 
his first child wrote and published the following 
verses : 



41 

One night, as old St. Peter slept, 

He left the door of Heaven ajar. 
When through a little angel crept. 

And came down with a falling star. 

One summer as the blessed beams 
Of morn approached, my blushing bride 

Awakened from some pleasing dreams, 
And found that angel by her side. 

God grant but this — I ask no more — 
That when he leaves this world of pain 

He'll wing his way to that bright shore, 
And find the way to heaven again. 

Saxe seems to have been sceptical as to the 
divine origin of the " little angel " for, deeming 
injustice to have been done the good saint, he 
penned the following hitherto unpublished vin- 
dication as St. Peter's reply : 

Full eighteen hundred years or more 

I've kept my gate securely fast ; 
There has no " little angel" strayed, 

Nor recreant through the portals passed. 
I did not sleep, as you supposed, 

Nor leave the door of heaven ajar, 
Nor has a " little angel " left 

And gone down with a falling star. 

Go ask that blushing bride and see 

If she don't frankly own and say. 
That when she found that angel babe, 

She found it in the good old way. 

God grant but this— I ask no more — 
That should your number still enlarge, 

You will not do as done before. 
And lay it to old Peter's charge. 



42 



In his '' Carmen Lsetum," recited after dinner 
before the Alumni of Middlebury College at their 
semi-centennial celebration in 1850, after com- 
menting on the general good health of his Alma 
Mater, Saxe adverts to an effort to unite Middle- 
bury and the University of Vermont. 

" Indeed, I must tell you a bit of a tale, 
To show you she's feeling remarkably hale ; 
How she turned up her nose, but a short time ago, 
At a rather good-looking importunate beau. 
And how she refused, with a princess-like carriage, 
' A very respectable offer of marriage !' 

" You see, my dear Brothers, a neighboring college 

Who values himself on the depth of his knowledge, 

With a prayer for her love, and eye to her land, 

Walked up to the lady and offered his hand. 

For a minute or so she was all in a flutter, 

And had not a word she could audibly utter ; 

For she felt in her bosom, beyond all concealing, 

A kind of a — sort of a — widow-like feeling ! 

But recovering soon from the delicate shock. 

She held up her head like an old-fashioned clock, 

And, with proper composure, went on and defined, 

In suitable phrases, the state of her mind ; 

Said she wouldn't mind changing her single condition. 

Could she fairly expect to improye her position ; 

And thus, by some words of equivocal scope. 

Gave her lover decided ' permission to hope. ' 

It were idle to talk of the billing and cooing 

The amorous gentleman used in his wooing ; 

Or how she replied to his pressing advances ; 

His oscular touches and ocular glances ; — 



43 



'Tis enough that his courtship, by all that is known, 
Was quite the old story, and much like your own ! 

" Thus the matter went on, till the lady found out, 

One very fine day, what the rogue was about, — 

That all that he wanted was merely the power 

By marital license to pocket her dower, 

And then to discard her in sorrow and shame, 

Bereaved of her home and her name and her fame. 

In deep indignation ^she turned on her heel, 

With such withering scorn as a lady might feel 

For a knave, who, in stealing her miniature case, 

Should take the gold setting and leave her the face ! 

But soon growing calm as the breast of the deep, 

When breezes are hushed that the waters may sleep, 

She sat in her chair, like a dignified elf. 

And thus, while I listened, she talked to herself : — 

' Nay, 'twas idle to think of so foolish a plan 

As a match with this pert University-man, 

For I haven't a chick but would redden with shame 

At the very idea of my losing my name ; 

And would feel that no sorrow so heavy could come 

To his mother as losing her excellent home. 

'Tis true I am weak, but my children are strong, 

And won't see me suffer privation or wrong ; 

So, away with the dream of connubial joys, 

I'll stick to the homestead, and look to the boys !' " 

Mr. Saxe did not try to make the Sentinel a 
power in politics or literature for his literary 
fame was broadening and his services as a lec- 
turer being more in demand, his dependence 
upon journalism for a livelihood was less essen- 
tial, yet he certainly enjoyed his editorial labors 



44 



and in his verses several clever sketches attest 
the influence of the newspaper office. 

These lines were probably the fruit of an edi- 
torial day dream : 

" In the close precincts of a dusty room 

That owes fev/ losses to the lazy broom, 

There sits the man ; you do not know his name, 

Brown, Jones, or Johnson — it is all the same, — 

Scribbling away at what perchance may seen! 

An idler's musing, or a dreamer's dream ; 

His peri runs rambling, like a straying steed ; 

The 'we' he writes seems very 'wee' indeed : 

But watch the change ; behold the wondrous power 

Wrought by the press in one eventful hour ; 

To-night, 'tis harmless as a maiden's rhymes ; 

To-morrow, thunder in the London Times! 

The ministry dissolves that held for years ; 

Her Grace, the Duchess, is dissolved in tears ; 

The Rothschilds quail ; the church, the army, quakes ; 

The very kingdom to its centre shakes ; 

The Corn Laws fall, the price of bread comes down,— 

Thanks to the 'we' of Johnson, Jones, or Brown !" 

The following skit in the columns of the 
Sentinel in the year 1851 was suggested by a 
communication from an irate subscriber to whom 
the editor's political views did not command 
themselves : 

" A free soil patron of the Sentinel 

Politely bids us ' send the thing to hell.' 

A timely hint. 'Tis proper, we confess, 

With change of residence to change the address ; 

It shall be sent, if Charon's mail will let it, 

Where the subscriber will be sure to get it." 



45 

lu 1856, no longer finding it necessary to rely 
upon journalism, Mr. Saxe sold the Sentinel and 
trusted to literature for a living. The trust was 
securely placed for, through economical treat- 
ment of his income, he acquired means which 
afforded him an opportunity for leisure and 
travel. 

Mr. Saxe's life in Burlington was quiet. He 
was domestic in his tastes and supremely happy 
in his home surroundings. His family consisted 
of a wife and five children : John Theodore, 
born April 22, lS4:3 ; Charles Gordon, born June 
7, 184:8 ; Sarah Elizabeth, born February 10, 1850; 
Harriet Sollace, born August 14, 1853, and Laura 
Sophia, born November 13, 1856. A son, George 
Brown Saxe, born February 1, 1846, was the 
only one of the poet's six children that did not 
live to maturity. His death on November 18, 
1847, suggested the sonnet " Bereavement " 
which serves as a companion piece to Longfel- 
low's " Eesignation." 

BEREAVEMENT. 

Nuy, weep not, clearest, though the child be dead ; 

He lives again in Heaven's unclouded life, 
With other angels that have early fled 

Fi'om these dark scenes of sorrow, sin and strife. 
Nay, weep not, dearest, though thy yearning love 

Would fondly keep for earth its fairest flowers, 
And e'n deny to brighter realms above 



46 



The few that deck this dreary world of ours ; 
Though much it seems a wonder and a woe 

That one so loved should be so early lost, 
And hallowed tears may unforbidden flow 

To mourn the blossom that we cherished most, 
Yet all is well ; God's good design I see, 

That where our treasure is, our hearts may be. 

As a " Family Man '' Mr. Saxe was an entire 
success, despite his seemingly querulous lines un- 
der that title. Mrs. Saxe, a worthy and devoted 
woman, was most dear to him and her sudden 
death contributed above all else to the gloom 
that enshrouded his later years. To her the 
poet dedicated the Diamond edition of his poems 
(1874:) as follows : 

" To my Best Friend, (A Diamond Edition of 
a Woman,) I Inscribe This Diamond Edition of 
the Poems of Her Husband 

J. G. S." 

The daughters are described as extremely beau- 
tiful girls. Of the three Miss Sarah was perhaps 
the wittiest and most brilliant, while Miss Har- 
riet was more quiet in her tastes and attainments. 
John, the eldest son, graduated from \^ermont 
University in 1862. He was a member of Lamb- 
da Iota and took high rank as a student. He 
was exceptionally bright and once or twice turn- 
ed his hand to writing verse, but his literary 



47 

efforts were persistently discouraged by liis father, 
and he soon relinquished them. Upon his grad- 
uation he engaged in the lumber business with 
his uncle Charles in Troy, New York. 

Mr. Saxe had a lounge made to order, to ac- 
commodate his great length and after supper, 
clad in dressing gown and slippers, he would 
often throw himself upon it with some such re- 
mark as, " Now if ai^y one is happier than I am 
I'd like to see him." His domestic contentment 
frequently shines forth in his verses in the ex- 
pression of such sentiments as this : 

I see a group of boys and girls 

Assembled round the knee paternal, 
With ruddy cheeks and tangled curls, 

A.nd manners not at all supernal. 
And one has reached a manly size ; 

And one aspires to woman's stature ; 
And one is quite a recent prize, 

And all abound in human nature ! 
The boys are hard to keep in trim ; 

The girls are often rather trying ; 
And baby— like the cherubim — 

Seems very fond of steady crying ! 
And yet the precious little one, 

His mother's dear, despotic master, 
Is worth a thousand babies done 

In Parian or in alabaster ! 

Perhaps the best tribute to Mr. Saxe's success 
as a family man is tlie last will of his eldest son, 
from which we venture to make an excerpt. 



48 



" As my brother Charles has been to me all 
that a brother should be, and as my knowledge 
of his cliaracter for all that is good and manly 
in all the trials of life covers an experience of 
over thirty years, I, with most perfect confi- 
dence, commit to his guardianship my infant 
son, John Godfrey Saxe, asking him to see that 
so far as may be in his power ray boy grows up 
to be a healthy, cultivated, manly and Christian 
gentleman. My son John will, with a father's 
blessing, bear in mind as he grows to manhood 
that his father and his mother, who has gone 
before but who often spoke of it before her 
death, wished him of all things to be a good 
man rather than rich or distinguished ; hoping 
still that he would make the best and the most 
of the talents God has evidently given him, and 
be an honor to the name he bears." 

Saxe's relatives recall many instances of his 
cleverness suggested by domestic events. His 
youngest brother, James, a merchant of St. 
Albans, Vermont, was married in 1850 to Sarah 
Storrs Sollace, the youngest sister of the poet's 
wife. Bearing this relationship in mind one can 
appreciate the following message from the poet 
to the bride during the wedding trip : 

" Oh lovely Sal, you naughty gal, 

Pray how's your noble Jim ? 
And how is she who made for me 

A brother-in-law of him ?" 



49 

The wit of the family was not confined to the 
l^oet for this same brother once made the obser- 
vation that he dealt in dry goods and John in 
dry jokes. Twin sons of Charles Saxe were 
named by him after his brothers John and James. 
The remaining brother, Peter, said that they 
sliould botli have been named after him, Peter. 
" That would be Petqr and Re-peater !" retorted 
the poet. Upon the birth of the same twins— 
who are now Saxe & Saxe, attorneys, of Boston — 
the poet sent their father the following lines : 

" The proverb says in aomber tone 
' Troubles seldom come alone' ; 
But, to recompense our cares, 
Blessings are sometimes sent in pairs, 
Thus, when a single babe was due, 
The grateful father welcomed two. 
God bless them in this world of trouble ! 
May both find all their blessings double, 
And, to the joy of sire and mother, 
Each prove an honor to his brother !" 



50 



50 



Y. 

In 1860 Mr. Saxe decided to remove to Alba- 
ny, ISTew York, as likely to be a city more con- 
genial toliis social tastes and widening reputation, 
and in April of that year lie made the change, 
taking with him his family, excepting his eldest 
son, then a sophomore in Vermont University. 
Mr. Saxe purchased an Albany residence upon 
Madison Avenue, nearly opposite the cathedral 
of the Immaculate Conception. Here for the 
dozen years ensuing he made his home, and his 
tall form was a familiar sight upon the streets of 
the city. This period comprehended the happi- 
est days of the poet's life ; he was surrounded 
by a loving family and a host of friends ; the 
best society was at his command ; his means were 
ample and he was so situated that he could feel 
the pulse beat of public events without taking 
any more share in them than he chose. He 
was now at the height of his fame ; the reputa- 
tion given him by " Proud Miss MacBride " had 
been still further spread by the magazines, to 
which, chiefly Harper's and the Atlcmtic 
Monthly^ lie was a regular and valued contrib- 
utor until as late as 1874. _ It was at this time, 
also, that the popular lecture was rampant as a 
source of public education and incidentally as a 



51 

replenislier of depleted literary exchequers, and 
no leading " lecture course " was thought com- 
plete unless it contained the name of the fore- 
most poet of satire and humor. Saxe drew 
equally well with Wendell Phillips, George Wil- 
liam Curtis, ITeni'y Ward Beecher, Kev. Dr. E. 
11. Chapin, Anna E. Dickinson and others who, 
in the decade from 1859, were kept on the go 
from early fall until the spring apples were ripe. 
Saxe was not a forcible lecturer in prose and 
often his hearers were a trifle disappointed at his 
rendering of his own verses, which were put to 
the test of repeated delivery, yet he held his 
place on the lecture programs by virtue of the 
reputation his poems had given him. He had 
but to set the date and name his price, as an op- 
portunity to see the author of "Proud Miss Mac- 
Bride " was not to be missed by the lecture-going 
people of the day. To the eyes of the audience, 
at least, the investment must have seemed a wise 
one, for at liis best, physically, Saxe was a re- 
markably handsome man. He was six feet two 
inches tall, proudly erect and muscular, with a 
large, round and finely poised head set upon 
broad and stalwart shoulders. Photographs of 
him taken at this time represent his face in pro- 
file — a high, l)road, intellectual forehead, wavy 
brown liair in al)undance and keen,-deepset eyes. 



52 



which were gray in color, and remarkably ex- 
pressive. His feature outlines, strong and sugges- 
tive, except for the chin, were set off by a heavy 
moustache and " Burnside " whiskers, Saxe 
laughingly alludes to his size in his " Rliymed 
Epistle to the Editor of the Knickerbocker Mag- 
azine", in the lines : 

"Now I am a man, you must learn, 

Less famous for beauty than strength, 
And, for aught I could ever discern, 

Of rather superfluous length. 
In truth 'tis but seldom one meets 

Such a Titan in human abodes. 
And when I stalk over the streets, 

I'm a perfect Colossus of roads !" 

Mr. Saxe's last regular occupation was upon 
the Sentinel, but, while in Albany, he was con- 
nected with the Albany Evening Journal as cor- 
respondent, and was frequently called upon to 
write editorials both for this paper and for the 
Albany Morning Argus. The Hon. William 
Cassidy, proprietor of the latter sheet, was a 
democrat and at this time perhaps the nearest 
personal friend of the poet and to him Saxe 
dedicated the '' Highgate" edition (1871) of his 
poems. Many an hour did these two cronies 
while away in the Argus editorial rooms when 
there was not over much to do, and when- 
ever Saxe .roamed in during busy hours he 



53 

would pick up a book or novel and soon become 
lost in it, totally oblivions of the snrronnding 
confusion and rush of a newspaper editorial de- 
partment. He would often sit with his feet 
cocked up on one of the reporters' tables, com- 
fortably fitted into a reporter's chair, and perhaps 
smoking a reporter's pipe, reading a novel until 
way along into the "wee sma' hours." Saxe 
occasionally wrote criticisms and reviews for the 
Argus and a son of Mr. Cassidy, who was then a 
small boy, tells of the way the poet would come 
into the editorial rooms. " He would wander in, 
say good day to the reporters, then hunting around 
until he found a book he thought he would like 
he would bury himself in it. Casually my father 
would ask him if he would not write a review 
for. the paper. ' Saxe, won't you write that book 
up for us ? We haven't had time yet.' ' Well, 
I don't know ; yes, I guess so ' he would reply 
and go on reading. Presently, falling upon a 
passage that pleased him, he would start up 
and slioving tlie book into the pocket of his 
velveteen jacket (a style of coat of which he was 
always very fond) would say ; 'I guess I'll carry 
this away with me.' That was usually tlie last 
seen of the book, but in a day or two the criti- 
cism would appear." 

In his happier days Mr. Saxe enjoyed to the 
utmost travel and social life. He was a bright 



54 



member of many a literary gathering, being 
known, personally, to all the most prominent 
of contempory poets and prose writers. He 
loved to watch the men and women about liim 
and keen powers of observation conpled with a 
facile pen gave birth to many of his cleverest 
productions, such as "Le Jardin Mabille," 
"Some Pencil Pictures," "The Way of the 
World," and "The Mourner a la Mode," where 
he dwells with quiet humor on the specious grief 
displayed in "billows of crape," 

'•Indeed, it is scarce without measure, 
The sorrow that goes by the yard. " 

Twenty three consecutive summers Mr. Saxe 
spent at the springs in Saratoga where he wrote 
some of his best verses. At such a place he was 
in his element ; a brilliant conversationalist and 
something of a ladies' man withal, he never 
tired of talking when he had a good subject and 
interested listeners, and often he would spend 
many hap])y hours conversing far into the night. 
The fashions and foibles of the famous M^atering 
place afforded a rich mine of satire and how dil- 
igently the poet worked it may be discovered by 
a run through his collected poems. The "Song 
of Saratoga" was caught up by the public when 
it first appeared and for years was as regular in 
its summer rounds of the press as was Clement 



55 



C. Moore's "JSTiglit Before Christmas" as a bird 
of winter passage. 

SONG OF SARATOGA. 

"Pray, what do they do at the Springs ?" 

The question is easy to ask ; 
But to answer it fully, my dear, 

Were rather a serious task. 
And yet, in a bantering way, 

As the magpie or mocking-bird sings, 
I'll venture a bit of a song 

To tell what they do at the Springs ! 

Imprimis, my darling, they drink 

The waters so sparkling and clear ; 
Though the flavor is none of the best, 

And the odor exceedingly queer ; 
But the fluid is mingled, you know. 

With wholesome medicinal things. 
So they drink, and they drink, and tliey drink, — 

And that's what they do at the Springs ! 

Then with appetites keen as a knife, 

They hasten to breakfast or dine ; 
(Tlie latter precisely at three, 

The former from seven till nine.) 
Ye gods ! what a rustle and rush 

When the eloquent dinner bell rings ! 
Then they eat, and they eat, and they eat, — 

And that's what they do at the Springs ! 

Now they stroll in the beautiful walks, 

Or loll in the shade of the trees ; 
Where many a whisper is heard 

That never is told by the breeze ; 
And hands are commingled with hands, 



56 



Regardless of conjugal rings ; 
And they flirt, and they flirt, and they flirt, — 
And that's what they do at the Springs ! 

The drawing-rooms now are ablaze, 

And music is shrieking away ; 
Terpsichore governs the hour, 

And Fashion was never so gay ! 
An arm round a tapering waist, 

How closely and fondly it clings ! 
So they waltz, and they waltz, and they waltz, — 

And that's what they do at the Springs ! 

In short — as it goes in the world — 

They eat, and they drink, and they sleep ; 
They talk, and they walk, and they woo ; 

They sigh, and they laugh, and they weep ; 
They read, and they ride, and they dance ; 

(With other unspeakable things ;) 
They pray, and they play, and they pay, — 

And that's what they do at the Springs ! 

In 1867, leaving liis two elder daughters in 
the family of his brother James and his young- 
est in a convent near Albany, Mr. Saxe, accom- 
panied by his wife, visited Europe. This trip 
was not idled away but was productive of results 
which added both to the fame and the fortune of 
the poet. Mr. and Mrs. Saxe visited the Paris 
Exposition of that year and also met the present 
Prince of Wales. The " Cockney," one of 
Saxe's wittiest sketches, is reminiscent of the 
trip. 



57 



THE COCKNEY. 

It was in my foreign travel, 

At a famous Flemish inn, 
Tliat I met a stoutish person 

With a very ruddy skin ; 
And his hair was something sandy, 

And was done in knotty curls, 
And was parted in the middle, 

In the manner of a girl's. 

He was clad in checkered trousers, 

And his coat was of a sort, 
To suggest a scanty pattern, 

It was bobbed so very short ; 
And his cap was very little, 

Such as soldiers often vise ; 
And he Avore a pair of gaiters, 

And extremely heavy shoes. 

I addressed the man in English, 

And he answered in the same, 
Though he spoke it in a fashion 

That I thought a little lame : 
For the aspirate was missing 

Where the letter should liave been, 
But where'er it wasn't wanted, 

He was sure to put in ! 

When I spoke with admiration 

Of St. Peter's mighty dome, 
He remarked : " 'Tis really nothing 

To the sights we 'ave at 'omc !'' 
And declared upon his honor, — 

Though, of course, 'twas very (jueer, 
That he doubted if the Romans 

'Ad the /lart of making beer I 



68 



"When I named the Colosseum, 

He observed, " 'Tis very fair ; 
I mean, ye know, it loould be, 

If they'd put it in repair ; 
But what progress or /iimprovement 

Can those curst Italians 'ope 
While they're /lunder the dominion 

Of that blasted muff, the Pope?" 

Then w^e talked of other countries. 

And he said that he had heard 
That iiZamericans spoke Hinglish, 

But he deemed it quite /iabsurd ; 
Tet he felt the deepest /^interest 

In the missionary vrork. 
And would like to know if Georgia 

Was in Boston or New York ! 

When I left the man-in-gaiters, 

He was grumbling, o'er his gin. 
At the charges of the hostess 

Of that famous Flemish inn ; 
And he looked a very Briton, 

(So, methinks, I see him still), 
As he pocketed the candle 

That was mentioned in the bill ! 



59 

VI. 

Again deciding to change his residence, Mr. 
Saxe, in 1872, removed to Brooklyn, JST. Y,, where 
he bought a home at No. 28 First place. The 
location was one of the coolest and pleasantest 
in the city while among the poet's neighbors 
were Austin Corbin, Demas Barnes, the Rev. 
Dr. Ludlow and other people of culture and re- 
finement. The house was a three-story brown- 
stone edifice with a deep court yard in front, 
which was covered with close green turf. 

In the poet's last collection we find a reference 
to his home in his lines 

TO A BACHELOR FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY. 
Come and see us, any day ; 

With his choicest mercies 
Heaven has showered my rugged way, 

Plenty — as my verses. ' 

Share my home, oh lonely elf, 

Cosiest of houses, 
Wisely ordered, like myself ! 

By the best of spouses. 

Though 'tis small upon the ground, 

I may fairly mention 
Toward the sky it will be found 

Of sublime extension. 
Narrow is a city-lot, 

When you've truly said it ; 
But the "stories" we have got 

You would scarcely credit I 



60 

Though the stairs are something tall, 

You have but to clamber 
Up the fourth ; ' ' upon the wall 

Is the Prophet's chamber." 
Thence my garden you may view, 

Kept with costly labor, 
Specially for me and you, 

By my wealthy neighbor. 

Books, you hardly need be told — 

Wait your welcome coming ; 
Some I warrant — mainly old — 

Worthy of your thumbing. 
For the rest, I only swear, 

Though they're rather recent, 
You will find the printing fair, 

And the binding decent. 

Breakfast? — Mutton chops at eight 

(Cook will do them nicely). 
Dinner? — What you choose to state. 

Served at two precisely. 
Bed ? — Delicious (not a few 

Were the swans who lined it) 
As a bachelor like you, 

Could expect to find it ! 

Here, then, Saxe designed to spend the wan- 
ing years of his life in happiness and content- 
ment. He had accumulated a competence and 
expected to live out his allotted days in peace 
surrounded by his children ; but little did he an- 
ticipate how heavily the hand of Fate was 
to be laid upon him. His former melan- 
choly began to grow upon him more and more 



61 



and, as if warned of the trouble that lay before 
hhn, he bought, soon after fixing his residence 
in Brooklyn, a family burying lot in Greenwood 
cemetery that was fittingly adorned for the inter- 
ment that all too speedily was made in it. His 
first sorrow was in 1874, His youngest daughter, 
Laura, had contracted lung trouble while at a 
boarding school in Masssachusetts. After nobly 
battling with the disease she returned from an 
unavailing sojourn in Florida to die. 

The next spring, while returning home at the 
close of a lecture tour in the south, in an acci- 
dent on the Panhandle road near Wheeling, 
West Yirginia, the sleeping car in which Mr." 
Saxe had a berth was derailed and thrown down 
a steep embankment. The other passengers 
were gathered near when a lady cried out, " I 
don't see the tall gentleman whose berth was 
opposite mine." Search was at once made, but 
meanwhile a fellow passenger, who had escaped, 
betliought him of a sum of money which he had 
left behind. On returning to the car he stum- 
bled upon the bruised and insensible poet wedged 
between heavy timbers. Mr. Saxe was thereby 
rescued from a revolting death for the sleeper 
in which he was found, after a brief interval fol- 
lowing his rescue, became a mass of seething 
flames. Even under these fearful circumstances 



62 



the poet's wit did not fail him, for when some 
one asked him how he liked "Riding on the 
Rail" now, he replied " A great deal better than 
riding off from it!" Mr. Saxe's flesh was 
bruised, but no bones were broken and outwardly 
he seemed to liave escaped with slight bodily 
injuries. Returning to his Brooklyn home he 
recovered from the wounds received in the acci- 
dent, but his nervous system had suffered a shock 
from which it never rallied. This, as appeared 
upon examination after his death, was induced, 
at least in part, by a severe blow upon the head, 
received no doubt in the wreck, which had affect- 
ed the poet's brain. 

Up to this time Mr. Saxe was a splendid and 
conspicuous specimen of virile manhood but from 
now on all was changed. The grievous and in- 
sidious nervous shock was intensified by added 
sorrows. Slowly but surely the consequent weak- 
ness overspread and undermined his whole phy- 
sical being ; he began to experience a greater 
degree of bodily and mental fatigue ; daily his 
form became more bent and his step more feeble 
and his spirits more subdued until at last his 
mind lost altogether its wonted buoyancy. Ex- 
cepting the ill-starred lecture tour referred to, 
Mr. Saxe's last appearance before the general 
public was on September 27, 1873, when he 



63 

read an ode on the occasion of the unveiling 
of a bust of John Howard Payne, in Prospect 
Park, Brooklyn. However, true to fraternal 
promptings, he read some post prandial verses 
at Delraonico's, on April 8, 1874, the occa- 
sion being a festival of the Forty-first Annual 
convention of Psi IJpsilon. Among other sen- 
timents the j)oet expresses a dislike to being 
termed old and says : 

" Is he old who, in spite of his fast thinning curls, 
Has a joke for the boys and a smile for the girls ! 

« ♦ * * * 

Is he old who owes nothing to fraudulent art ? 
Above all, is he old who is young at the heart ?" 

These words came very near being ironical. 

In 1875 the poet's last collection came from 
press — "Leisure Day Rhymes" — and these show 
his waning power. The pristine vigor of his 
earlier verses is not so evident and he is occupied 
with more placid themes. More touches upon 
theology occur. In " Here and Hereafter" he 
says : 

" As for me, 
My creed is short as any man's may be ; 
' Tis written in the 'Sermon on the Mount,' 
And in the ' Pater Noster' ; I account 
The words ' Our Father' (had we lost the rest 
Of that sweet prayer, the briefest and the best 
Of all the liturgies) of higher worth, 
To ailing souls, than all the creeds on earth." 



64 



And in " Miserere Domine" he says : 

' ' 'Our Father! ' Ever blessed name ! 
To Thee we bring our sin and shame ; 
Weak though we be, perverse of will, 
Thou art our gracious Father still, 
Who knowest well how frail we be. 

Miserere Domine !" 

The perennially appropriate ode to the New 
York legislature, in which he says that if we 
are expected to respect the laws "'tis not best to 
see them made," shows a vivid flash of the old- 
time fire. 

In 1879 death again invaded the poet's house, 
the second victim being his eldest and favorite 
daughter Sarah, then in the thirtieth year of her 
age. Scarcely had a year elapsed when Mrs. 
Saxe, a noble woman who had always been all to 
him that a wife should be, died suddenly of a 
syncope which burst a blood vessel in the brain 
and was put tenderly away in dreamless rest. 
She had always been a strong and robust woman 
and at this last blow, the most crushing of all, 
the already stricken poet was beside himself. 
The mother of his children dead ! She who had 
been so tender a helpmeet for forty years ! It 
was too utterly monstrous for credence and for 
days Saxe sat in his room with bowed head re- 
peating over and over to himself the words, 
" I can't believe it." 



65 



Other trials were yet in store. In June, 
1881, the dark reaper for the fourth time entered 
his home, this time cutting down his sole re- 
maining daughter, Harriet. After his first 
three afflictions Mr. Saxe resolved to maintain 
his charming home in Brooklyn, but at the 
death of Miss Hattie his heart broke. On Sun- 
day, June 5th, the day' of the funeral, many of 
his old friends attended the services, expecting 
to catch a glimpse of him, but he did not leave 
his room, and could not be induced to ride to 
the cemetery. The poet's mental malady so 
clouded his mind as to shut out all the pleasures 
of life. He occupied his room and scarcely ever 
could be induced to leave it. Old friends, to 
whom he had formerly been closely attached, 
would gladly have endeavored to cheer him, but 
he rejected all overtures and was inaccessible, a 
prey to the settled melancholy that was to over- 
shadow him till his death. This melancholy was 
further enhanced by his finding, upon attempting 
to do some literary work, that his pen faltered 
and his thoughts were weak. Grief over the swift 
course of death and the departure of his old gifts 
combined to produce acute mental misery which 
he attributed to imaginary physical ills. His 
physician, Dr. Wanderlich, wrote of him : " I 
have never encountered a more obstinate man. 



66 

He sits in his room all day long, grieving over 
the loss of his power as a poet, and imagining 
that he is the greatest sufferer. I cannot detect 
that he is physically any worse than one of his 
age would naturally be supposed to be. His ail- 
ment is chiefly mental, and his mind has assumed 
a most painful hypochondriacal hue. He 
imagines that he cannot eat anything, yet he 
consumes plenty of food. Then he thinks that 
he is wasting away in flesh, but I cannot detect 
that he is growing any thinner, and I sometimes 
think he is gaining flesh. He does not go out 
of his room, and cannot be coaxed or driven to 
take exercise. I think that if he would take 
plenty of exercise, change the scene of his daily 
life, and seek companions who would divert his 
mind from himself, he would recover his animal 
spirits, and be more like the brilliant, witty man 
he once was." 

Mr. Saxe's condition was in sorrowfully strik- ^ 

ing contrast to his mood when he wrote the fol- 
lowing 

LINES ON MY THIRTY -NINTH BIRTHDAY. 

Oh, few that roam this world of ours, 
To feel its thorns and pluck its flowers, 
Have trod a brighter path than mine 
From blithe thirteen to thirty-nine. 
Health, home, and friends (life's solid part,) 
A merry laugh, a fresh young heart, 



% 



67 



Poetic dreams and love divine — 
Have I not these at thirty-nine ? 
Oh, Time ! Forego thy wasted spite, 
And lay thy future lashes light, 
And, trust me, I will not repine, 
At twice the count of thirty-nine. 

How sadly did Father Time answer the poet's 
prayer ! A few years previously his verses were 
eagerly accepted by the leading periodicals, he 
was the nation's wit and humorist whose delicious 
rhymes brought to himself fame and a compe- 
tence and to many a household the cheerful 
smile or hearty laugh. Even across the sea he 
was known as the "Thomas Hood of America." 
Yet at sixty-five his condition much resembled 
the closing days of Scott, Southey, Cowper, and 
Tom Moore. Mr. Saxe now made no effort to 
combat his melancholy. His light had gone out 
forever; not a gleam recalled the brilliant 
flashes of wit that had played so merrily across 
the literary firmament of twent}' years agone 
aud his last years afford but another instance of 
the fatality that seems especially to beset the 



gone of laughter. 



68 

YII. 

The stricken poet wa8 now inaccessible to all. 
He would allow none to approach him, yet his 
domestic solitude was more than he could bear 
and he soon sold his Brooklyn home and was 
taken to Albany to the home of his eldest son. 
Even here misfortune followed for once again 
the inexorable hand of fate was laid heavily 
upon him. Within the month precedinoj his son's 
wife had died. Nine weeks after her decease 
John himself, not arising at the usual hour, was 
found dead in bed. x Thus, in the brief space of 
seven years, had the poet's wif e,his three daugh- 
ters, his eldest son and his daughter-in-law crossed 
the mystic river before his very eyes. What 
wonder then, that death seemed to him his best 
friend as with whitened locks, bent form and sad 
eyes he wearily sought shelter with his only sur- 
viving child, Charles, beneath whose rooftree he 
was to spend the last sorrowful years of his life, 
brooding hopelessly in solitude over his afflic- 
tions, his mind still Tiaunted by joyous memories 
of the golden past. 

When Mr. Saxe began to feel in some degree 
the stability of this last shelter, he made a last 
pitiful effort to hold at bay the grief that 
oppressed his being. During the first three 
years he spent some hours each pleasant day loit- 
ering in the beautiful park near his son's house 



69 

or tranquilly seated in a shady arbor, watching 
the children at their play. He chatted with the 
members of his son's family or read the news- 
papers. A bright young man was secured for a 
companion and he tried to forget, but it was of 
no avail, the struggle was a vain one, and in 1884 
he withdrew altogether from the eyes of men. 
With his retirement his literary fame had de- 
clined; death and the turmoil of life wrought 
neglect even among his quondam admiring 
companions, until now, except for an occasional 
sympathetic reference in the public prints, hard- 
ly a person knew that, one who, in his time, did 
more than any other to brighten the world around 
him, was ending his days apart from his fellow 
men, crushed by bereavements and the victim of 
a settled melancholy. It is one of the eccentric- 
ities of fate that a man whose mission was to dad- 
den others should thus drag out his last years, 
dead to the world which was once so kind to 
him. In the poet's own words : "Isn't it queer 
that one who made others laugh should end his 
days so in sorrow ? " 

Charles Saxe occupied two adjoining brown- 
stone houses connected by alcoves and situated 
on State street barely a stone's throw from the 
great capitol. In the spacious double home of 
his son, who ever ministered to his wants with 



TO 

filial tenderness and solicitude, the poet was 
given spacious quarters where he existed rather 
than lived for three years more, despite the pre- 
dictions of eminent physicians, whom his family 
•had consulted in his behalf in 1881, on his first 
coming to Albany, that he would not survive two 
years longer. 

These last three years of the once exuberant 
poet and stalwart man were patlietic in the ex- 
treme. He was much changed in form and 
feature being but the shadow of his former virile 
self. With hair that was silvery white, a full, 
gray-white beard, a form bent and emaciated, a 
tottering step and a face pallid and shrunken — the 
clear gray eyes alone bore witness to the 
strength of other days. Physically a wreck, his 
mind, though feeble and languid, was clear up 
to the tinje of his death. 

The poet's daily existence was not varied. He 
rose about 6:30 and retired between the hours of 
nine and ten. His food was of the plainest 
description as he suffered much from indigestion, 
as well as from insomnia and neuralgia in the 
head — the latter superinduced, no doubt, by the 
blow received in the railroad accident. Through- 
out the day he would move leisurely about, 
often lost in meditation, recline upon a couch 
or sit in an easy chair gazing out upon the river. 



n 

his mind ever and anon reverting to his irrepara- 
ble bereavements. Of his wife and children he 
often spoke tenderly and regretfully, manifest- 
ing a keen interest in the proper care of their 
graves. Part of his time he devoted to a peru- 
sal of the leading magazines, sent him regularly 
and unsolicited by the publishers thereof, in 
kindly remembrance of past favors, or occasion- 
ally he would read a few pages in one of 
his favorite prose authors, usually Hawthorne, 
Dickens or Thackeray, judiciously selecting 
therefrom matter of cheerful tone. The news- 
papers he refused to look at, manifesting no in- 
terest in current events. He would say "it pains 
me to meet with the details of so much crime 
and so many casualties," and this was no new 
sentiment to him, for in "The Press," written in 
1855, occur these lines : 

The News, indeed ! pray do you call it news 
When shallow noddles publish shallow views ? 
Pray, is it news that turnips should be bred 
As large and hollow as the owner's head ? 
News, that a clerk sliould rob his master s hoard 
Whose meagre salary scarcely pays his board ? 
News, that two knaves, their spurious friendship o'er, 
Should tell the truths which they concealed before ? 
Neivs, that a maniac weary of his life, 
Should end his sorrows with a rope or kuife? 
News, that a wife should violate the vows 
That bind her, loveless, to a tyrant spouse? 



72 



Netos, that a daughter cheats paternal rule, 
And weds a scoundrel to escape a fool ? 
The news, indeed ! Such matters are as old 
As sin and folly, rust and must and mould ! 

At increasingly rare intervals a brighter mood 
would come upon him, reviving a transient in- 
terest in old friends and associations. The name 
of Longfellow was often on his lips and that 
poet's death affected him deeply. His memory 
at times showed momentary gleams of its pris- 
tine vigor and at one time he surprised his son 
not a little by repeating verbatim one of Charles 
Lamb's longest essays. 

One of the few friends who had an opportuni- 
ty to know something of the poet's recluse ex- 
istence, wrote in the summer of 1886 ; "During 
the past two years no public eye has seen him. 
The apartment in which he spands his melan- 
choly days consists of a suite of three rooms, 
located in the rear end of the house on the 
third floor, and overlooking the noble Hudson to 
the South. Here by the window he whiles 
away much of his time in watching the busy 
river craft, and in contemplating the picturesque 
landscape. Of street attire he no longer has a 
need ; in dressing-gown and slippers he paces the 
floor with slow and trembling steps, seldom or 
never going beyond the confines of his own 
room." 



73 

As time passed ou the cloud that brooded orer 
the poet's being settled heavier and yet more 
darkly. He gave up reading the magazines, nor 
could he be induced to open a book. A.t one 
time Mrs. James Saxe, liis wife's sister and bro- 
ther's wife, who was alivays a favorite with him, 
took some books up to his room on the plea that 
they were in the way down stairs, but he would 
not allow them to be left, saying gently but 
firmly, " No. I can't have them here. They 
remind me of the past." Finally he denied hhn- 
self to the members of the family, even saying, 
when asked if he would receive his favorite 
sister-in-law : " No. Tell her I would like to see 
her, but— I cannot, I cannot bear to be reminded 
of what I once was — of the days of my hope and 
strength, when the world had charms that are 
now dead to me ; before sickness liad deprived 
me of my health, and death had robbed me of 
my loved ones." 

His only companion was now his valet, 
a middle-aged colored man who, by reason of 
prior service with eminent people at Wash- 
ington and other places, was more than ordinar- 
ily intelligent and entertaining. With him 
the poet chatted, sometimes with a more than 
usual degree of interest and animation. In the 
poet's apartment hung a small portrait of Thomas 



74 



Hood, given liim by the English liumorist's son, 
and to this Mr. Saxe attached more than ordinary 
value. Sometimes in his walk he vsrould pause 
before it and, gazing sadly at it, say: " I wonder 
if poor Tom Hood ever suffered as I suffer now !" 
Again the observation escaped him ; "I do not 
see how any human being can continue to live in 
a condition so utterly hopeless as mine." The 
last lustrum of Saxe's life was only along craving 
for the final summons to join the loved ones who 
had gone before. 



The Century for June, 1886, contains the 
following lines to the poet by C. S. Percival : 

" O genial Saxe, whose radiant wit 
Flashed like the lightning from the sky, 

But, though each flash as keenly hit, 
Wounded but what deserved to die — 

Alas ! the cloud that shrouds thy day 

In gathering darkness, fold on fold. 
Serves not as background for the play 

Of those bright gleams that charmed of old ; 

For, from its depths where terrors hide. 
There crashed a bolt of dreadful tone ; 

Scattered thy household treasures wide, 
And left thee silent, bruised, alone. 

We miss thy song this pleasant May ; 
And, in the meadows, pause to think : 



75 



' What if, amid their bright array, 

We heard no voice of Bobolink !' 
Yet charms not now his blithesome lay , 

Nor flowery mead ' in verdure clad ' 
The world that laughed when thou wast gay, 

Now weeps to know that thou art sad." 

John Godfrey Saxe died on March 31, 1887, 
and was laid at rest in the family lot in Green- 
wood by the side of his wife and daughters. 
Only his relatives and a few personal friends 
were present at the funeral. 

The sad termination of his life reminds one of 
the well known anecdote of Liston, the famous 
comedian. One day there came to Abernethy 
a man who sougrht cure for a melancholia so con- 
firriied and constant that it threatened to under- 
mine his reason. " Pooh ! Pooh !" the famous 
surgeon replied : " if that is all you are easily 
cured; go to Covent Garden and see Liston." 
"Alas!" his patient replied, "I am Liston!" 



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